


how fucking hard is it to tell my boyfriend i love him in PEACE

by jojosiewa



Series: MCYT Short Stories [18]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), The Crafting Dead
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Vigilantism, charlie's sexy secret santa 2k19, netto is cool, some descriptions of rotting zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojosiewa/pseuds/jojosiewa
Summary: Ghetto has something very important to say to Nick, but there's one little problem.
Relationships: Ghetto/Nick (Crafting Dead)
Series: MCYT Short Stories [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1192948
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	how fucking hard is it to tell my boyfriend i love him in PEACE

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays to my secret santa!!!!

“Nick, first off, I wanna thank you for a wonderful four months— fuck— that sounds like I’m breaking up with him, shit. Dear Nick— It isn’t a fucking letter. Nick, y’know, this is usually the time where my relationships tend to fizzle out— oh my fucking god don’t say that. How the fuck do I even put this.” Ghetto shook his head at himself and buttoned up his shirt. He stood back and looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his jacket as he said, “Nick, I’ve never really been in a serious relationship. I don’t even know why I’m telling him— you this, but I feel like, I wanna be serious with you. Like, I’m in it, man! I’ve never really...”

Ghetto slumped his shoulders and scoffed. “Loved someone like I love you, before.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. His outfit was nice enough, he was fairly certain. Look nice for your man. “Fuck it, let’s get the fuck out of here,” he mumbled, smirking at the mirror before heading out.

——

Nick was the kind of guy you met once in a lifetime, and maybe not even then— real soulmate quality shit. He and Ghetto hit it off right away. It was like a movie, a rainy day where there was never rain. Ghetto would never forget that day, every single detail was so clear in his memory.

It was eight at night. It was 65 degrees, windy and rainy, and Ghetto was walking home after a long night talking to a professor of his. It was then that he saw a figure in the rain waiting to cross the street, small and shivering, with nothing but a raincoat to shelter him from the rain, which was starting to pour harder. Ghetto frowned and walked over to him, standing next to him and holding his umbrella over the mystery boy.

The boy turned to him, pretty green eyes wide, almost wary, and Ghetto felt his face heat up despite the cold. He was gorgeous. “Take— take this,” Ghetto offered, in a daze, and the boy’s mouth dropped open.

“I couldn’t do that,” he said, and Ghetto shook his head.

“Take it, I live two blocks down, I’ll manage,” Ghetto insisted, nodding towards his house. There was a pause as Nick stepped closer and held the umbrella up over the both of them, and for a moment they just watched the rain pour around them.

“I’m Nick,” the boy said, his voice quiet. “And I’ll have to return your umbrella.”

Ghetto smiled, and Nick smiled back. It was a small Georgia town, they’d likely run into each other again, no need for—

“I’ll give you my number, then?” Ghetto asked, and Nick nodded.

“That would be very nice.”

Ghetto let the memory of Nick’s honey sweet voice echo in his mind as he drove to a nice italian restaurant they’d decided to eat at for their four month anniversary. Well— Ghetto chose the place, made the date, because he had a speech to give, a cheesy-ass declaration of love he figured he’d find the right words for when he saw Nick walk in. He wondered what Nick would wear— not that it mattered, Nick could walk in wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and Ghetto would still be head over heels. Sure, they might be kicked out for the quality of Nick’s attire but they could get the hell out of there and have a picnic! At 7 p.m..

The restaurant was a five minute drive away, perks of a small town, and soon enough Ghetto was pulling into a parking space, his heart rate slowly but surely accelerating. “Come on, idiot, absolutely do not sweat through the nice outfit before he gets here,” he ordered himself. He got out of the car, brushed himself off, and walked into the restaurant.

“Reid, reservation for two.” Every time Ghetto went on a date with Nick, it felt like the first time, with the butterflies and the anxiety and all. He almost always got to the place early, just so he could watch Nick walk in, watch him smile and wave and shuffle over the way he did, eager (Ghetto figured) to see a familiar face in a sea of strangers.

Ghetto was led to his table, and he sat. He watched the door, and recalled the first time he ever watched Nick walk through one; an unofficial coffee date a few days later, to “return the umbrella.”

He was wearing a similar outfit, the red scarf and the black raincoat, just in case. But it didn’t seem like it was going to rain. It was a cold, cloudy morning with puddles still scattered on the uneven roadway, but when Nick walked in the sun began to shine through. The storm was done with, alright.

“Hey,” Nick said, lifting the umbrella and sitting down across from Ghetto, who smirked.

“Hey, man, I’m assuming you got home safe?” Ghetto asked, and Nick nodded. “That’s good. I went ahead and got myself some coffee, do you want anything?”

Nick thought for a moment, and Ghetto rested his chin on his hands. “Why not,” Nick said, voice endearingly quiet. “I’ll have some hot cocoa.” He giggled and brushed some hair behind his ear, and looking back Ghetto called all that shit love, though it took them a few more outings to actually start dating.

Ghetto was forced back to the present when he heard the door to the restaurant open. He perked up, but it wasn’t Nick. He leaned back in his seat and snuck a glance at his phone. It was nearly seven, nearly time. Ghetto took a couple deep breaths and straightened out his shirt. “Okay.”

Ghetto watched the door and waited. The soft live music flowed through the restaurant, and Ghetto bobbed his head to it as he eagerly anticipated his boyfriend’s arrival.

7 p.m. came and went. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. Ghetto ordered himself a water and drank it quickly as his knee bounced. Twenty. Twenty five. Ghetto checked his phone, and there were no texts from Nick. People were looking at him.

“Would you like to order something?” a waiter asked, and Ghetto looked up at her.

“No,” Ghetto said, a bit harsh, not in the mood for her pity. “He’ll come,” he whispered, when she was out of earshot. “He will. He wouldn’t do this on purpose.”

Thirty. Thirty five. Forty. Ghetto cursed and called Nick. It rang, and rang, and rang, and Ghetto was sent to voicemail. “This isn’t right,” Ghetto whispered, standing up. “This isn’t right.” He forked over some money and ran back out to his car, calling Nick again. Voicemail. His texts from earlier that night were delivered, but weren’t getting responses. Ghetto sent one last text: “I’m worried, I’m coming over.”

Then Ghetto turned his car on, and he was gone, driving well over the speed limit to get to the place he'd only been to once before.

Nick lived ten minutes away from the restaurant, on a street lined with apartment buildings, where a lot of college students lived. He took online classes, and was doing well as far as Ghetto knew. His apartment was small and cheap, and Nick liked going to Ghetto’s house more. It wasn’t the best part of town, but the infractions mostly consisted of stupid college kid bullshit, parties and drinking and smoking. They didn’t pay Nick any mind, but sometimes Nick came to Ghetto’s house to study when they were being too loud.

Ghetto parked haphazardly in front of Nick’s apartment building and got out of the car. “He’s probably sick, or, or something happened mentally, or something,” he said to himself, walking inside. “Jesus, I hope he’s alright.”

He strode up the stairs, skipping two steps each time. He nearly missed Nick’s floor, but eventually he made it. He stood in front of Nick’s door, and knocked.

The door gave way in the slightest. Ghetto stepped back, then forward, pushing on the door. It swung open, creaking on its hinges. Ghetto stared into the dark apartment, looking around, eyes wide. Nick wouldn’t leave the door open, not here. “Nick?” Ghetto called, taking a step inside. “Nick, you shouldn’t leave the door unlocked, it’s not...”

Ghetto flicked the light on, and kicked the door shut behind him. “Nick?” He spun on his heel. “Nick, babe, it’s Ghetto,” he said. He looked through each room, his stomach twisting with worry that grew with each passing second. “Please tell me you’re here, god, Nick, oh god.” He put his hands on his head. “NICK?”

The apartment was so quiet it hurt. No distant parties, no shouts of probably-underage drinkers nextdoor, no quiet pads of Nick’s footfalls, no clacks of Nick’s keyboard, no sound of Nick’s breathing. “He’s not here,” Ghetto mumbled. “He’s not here, he’s not—”

He ran back out and knocked frantically on the neighbor’s door. A kid his age smoking a joint answered, eyes widening. “You’re—” he took the joint out of his mouth. “You’re that dude’s boyfriend, hey, I’m a little worried, have you seen him recently, do you know that guy he went with earlier today? Like, was it a family member, or—”

“Guy?” Ghetto grabbed the kid’s shirt and pulled him close. “The fuck do you mean, guy?”

“Uh, a-an older white guy, dressed really nice, I dunno, I just saw the back of him nothing more, not his face or anything,” the kid stammered. “Can you let go of me?”

Ghetto did, his brows furrowed. “An older white guy in Georgia, thanks for the description, it’ll do wonders.” He rolled his eyes. “That guy took Nick?”

“Walked with him, outside. The guy gave him a card, Nick put it away somewhere, and they left. I don’t think your man locked his door.”

“He didn’t,” Ghetto breathed, his hands twitching.

“That’s all I know, man,” the kid said. “Could be nothing, I mean—”

“Thanks.” Ghetto stepped back and walked back to Nick’s apartment, grinding his teeth. “Nick went with an old guy? What the fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” For a moment, Ghetto stood there, breaths quick and jagged. He perked up. “Evidence. There has to be evidence, of, something. Anything.”

Ghetto went to Nick’s desk, looking for some kind of... something? It was tidy, his computer off and charging and a bulletin board above it covered in notes and pictures. There was a picture set of them both that they’d gotten from a photo booth at the mall on their last date. Ghetto touched it, and sighed. “Where’d you go.”

Something right under Ghetto’s wrist caught his eye. A card.

It wasn’t too uncommon to have the CDC’s address and phone number somewhere where it was easily accessible, just in case something happens, like if something that really shouldn’t shatter and spill does just that, or if you somehow end up ingesting something you shouldn’t, etcetera. Ghetto unpinned the card from the board anyway, and turned it over. He froze, dropping the pin and covering his mouth.

“Careful now, do as I say” was written on the back. The handwriting was neat. Ghetto grit his teeth and turned the card back over. “1600 Clifton Rd, Atlanta, GA 30333,” the address. Ghetto’s eyes narrowed.

——

“Four fucking hours?” Ghetto spat, tossing his phone into the passenger seat of his car and hitting his steering wheel. “No fucking way it takes four fucking hours to drive to Atlanta from here, no fucking way. FUCK!” Ghetto pressed his head to the steering wheel, seething. “Better get moving, shit, better get moving. I’m coming for you, Nick.” He sat up straight and turned the key in the ignition. His car came to life, and he practically strangled ten and two, hands shaking with rage. “I’m coming for you.”

Ghetto, in his haste, forgot to stop at his house to grab a change of clothes or two, and he drove to Atlanta while still in his nice suit, eyes screaming bloody murder. And once he got there...

Once he got there...!!

“What the fuck am I gonna do once I get there?” Ghetto asked himself, two hours in. “Ohh, fuck, oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Oh fuck. Okay. Okay Ghetto, let’s think about this. Idiot.” He tried to loosen his grip on the steering wheel and shake himself off a bit. “Okay. Motel. I need to find a motel. I need to find food too, I can stop for food at fuckin’, McDonalds, fuck. Okay.”

Ghetto looked ahead of him, listening to his engine as he drove on the freeway, pushing the speed limit. He wasn’t sure why it all began to set in then, but it did. “Nick, holy fuck,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Something happened to Nick, something’s happening to Nick. Oh god, okay, okay, can’t freak out now, can’t— I’ll get to him, I’ll get to him and I’ll save him and he’ll be— god, who would fucking take—” Ghetto sighed.

“A lot of people. A lot of people would.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and continued on. “I won’t let ‘em.”

——

Ghetto slammed a crumpled bundle of cash on the desk, and the receptionist looked up at him. “A room,” Ghetto ordered, glaring, and the girl nodded, looking him up and down before getting him a tacky key. He took it and mumbled a thank you, pausing when he noticed a bulletin board on the wall, featuring several flyers, the word “MISSING” scattered about on nearly each one. He walked up to them and put his hand on the side of the board.

“This many people are gone?” Ghetto asked, and the receptionist looked up.

“Yeah, uh, it’s been kind of a big deal in the news. There have been more cops on the streets, all that. Atlanta’s a great place, just, not right now, as much,” she said, and Ghetto looked outside as the faint glow of red and blue lights flickered off in the distance. “There’s like, apparently no pattern, or anything. That’s why it’s so weird.”

“No pattern?” Ghetto looked back to the missing flyers and shook his head. “Jesus, you’re right.”

The girl nodded. “The guy, he has to be caught eventually, right? It’ll all be over soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, shit. I uh, on that note, goodnight, I guess,” Ghetto mumbled, and the receptionist smiled and waved.

Ghetto walked back out into the dark. He followed the numbers on the doors and found his soon enough. He had to push against the door a bit for it to give way, and when he turned on the light it flickered for a few seconds before turning on for good. Ghetto sighed and walked in, shutting the door behind him and tossing the keys on the desk.

It was midnight, and the adrenaline that had brought him here was running out quickly now. Ghetto was tired, and alone, he soon realized. He fished the mysterious card out of his pocket and put it on the desk, staring at it as he called in sick and tried to figure out what the hell happened to his boyfriend.

He’d heard vaguely about people going missing in Atlanta, but he didn’t know the scale was as large as it was. He’d totally forgotten about it since the beginning of its coverage a long while back, and he supposed the media had gotten bored of it and moved on to other things. Ghetto figured that, morbidly, he’d driven to the right city.

“But what the hell did the CDC have to do with it?” Ghetto asked, looking around the empty room and sighing. “Fuck, I really am alone with this one, huh?”

The silence made him shiver, or maybe it was the thought of Nick being somewhere even shittier than here, alone, scared, but hopefully alive. “Hopefully alive,” Ghetto said, cringing. “God, that hurts bad. Hopefully alive. He hasn’t been gone for long, just, what, five, six hours? Maybe seven? Most of that... must have been the drive. It’s like, 48 hours right? 41 hours to go?”

Ghetto pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should sleep and get going in the morning, I’m no good running on an all nighter,” he convinced himself, collapsing on the questionable motel bed and staring up at the precarious-looking ceiling fan, four hours away from home, on the hunt for an old white guy who more than likely kidnapped Nick for... he didn’t even want to think about it. Nick would be back soon, but for now, Ghetto slept alone.

——

The CDC was crowded, but fairly quiet, and Ghetto managed to find his way inside by following some of the entering scientists. He wasn’t wearing his suit anymore; he’d taken the liberty of taking a shower and dressing presentable enough from clothes he bought at Walmart, shockingly. He found himself by the receptionist’s desk, snatching a pamphlet and wandering into the cafeteria.

“I can’t believe you’re working today, if you said you drove back at night. I would’ve taken the day off if I had to drive all the way to northern Georgia and back in one day. Isn’t it a four hour drive?” Ghetto froze, and looked towards the source of the oddly accented voice.

Three scientists hovered by a coffee maker, two white, one Asian. “I’m not too tired,” one with light brown hair said. Ghetto narrowed his eyes. Older white guy, like the college kid said.

“Why’d you have to go to a small town up there anyway, Ross? Not much to do,” the youngest said, almost seeming suspicious.

“There was something I had to get, Jin, that’s all. Nothing major,” Ross said, taking a long sip of his coffee. “I should get to work. Xavier, Jin, I’ll see you.” Ghetto shuddered, backing up. Just as he did, he backed into Ross, who was walking away. Ghetto whipped around and stared at the man, wide eyed. Ross looked back, gray eyes so incredibly dull that it almost looked like he was without a soul. “Sorry,” Ross said, looking Ghetto up and down and smirking. His voice was calm and mechanic, but there was a hint of amusement. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry,” Ghetto choked out, and Ross turned and walked off, hands in his pockets.

The other two, Xavier and Jin, both passed Ghetto as well, chatting lightly. Jin glanced back at Ghetto for a moment, but then he hurried off with Xavier.

Ghetto shoved his own hands in his pockets and shuddered again, nose scrunching up. Interacting with that Ross guy was so unnerving that he thought he might drop dead at any moment.

“No way I fucking found the guy already,” Ghetto whispered. “It’s too easy, he’s too obvious.”

He stepped back from his conclusion, and figured he’d do some more digging.

——

The CDC at night was dead silent, aside from Ghetto’s footsteps, which echoed in the nearly-empty halls. There were a few scientists still there, working late nights, but they were mostly too tired or focused on whatever the hell they were doing to pay him any mind.

He had to wait around for Ross to leave, and during the day he’d heard various tidbits about the guy. He was a loner with lots of real estate in the forests; cabins and such, along with a large isolated house, nearly a mansion, which no one had ever actually seen. He was the only person there who despised that Xavier dude, and Jin started out as Ross’ apprentice. It seemed to Ghetto that no one actually liked Ross; he hadn’t heard that much shittalking in one day since high school.

Ghetto peered around a corner, starting to get tired again; it was one in the morning, and Ross was just leaving. He watched Ross lock up his office and walk down the hall and out of sight. Ghetto snuck up to the door and took out a bobby pin he’d found in the motel (and probably shouldn't have picked up), attempting to pick the lock. Had he ever picked a lock before? Talk to his lawyer.

He grinned and pushed the door open after a few moments of fidgeting. The hinges creaked, and the hair on the back of Ghetto’s neck stood up as he stepped inside. He didn’t know what he expected to find; maybe a file marked with a red stamp that said TOP SECRET, maybe a list of names or addresses, something like that. However, Ghetto crept up to the desk and saw nothing but chemistry and some bullshit starting with the letter Z. He kept digging, opening drawers and finding similar shit—

He tried to open a drawer, but it was locked. Ghetto tilted his head and got the bobby pin back out.

“What are you doing?”

“SHIT!” Ghetto lifted his head, hit it on the desk, and scrambled to his feet. The scientist standing in the doorway, the one named Jin, raised an eyebrow, and Ghetto stepped back. “Watch it, man,” he threatened. “How’d you know I was in here?”

“There are, people still here. I was about to go home when I saw this door open.” Jin shook his head. “What are you looking for?”

“None of your business,” Ghetto said, and Jin stepped closer.

“Is it something or someone?” Ghetto froze at that. He narrowed his eyes at Jin.

“The fuck do you know,” Ghetto hissed, crossing the small room quickly and grabbing Jin by the collar of his shirt. “Is he taking people?”

“I don’t— know for sure,” Jin stammered, “but our receptionist has been missing and Ross seems— well he just seems really weird about everything, my friend Xavier and I have been trying to get to the bottom of it too—”

“Jin? Oh, Jesus!” Ghetto let go when the accented guy from earlier, Xavier, appeared in the doorway.

“Xavier, he’s on our side,” Jin said, gesturing to Ghetto. Xavier walked inside and shut the door behind him.

“You.”

“Me,” Ghetto said. “I don’t actually work here.”

“I know, I know everyone who works here,” Xavier said, scoffing. “So Jin was right, you are digging up things about Ross.”

Ghetto perked up. “Yes. My boyfriend, Nick Lynx, he’s missing, it hasn’t been long but the breadcrumbs led me here,” he explained, and Xavier nodded along. “A witness said an older white guy walked away with Nick, and there was a CDC card in his apartment. I heard you guys talking to Ross, and Nick and I live in the small town you guys were describing, and Nick went missing around the time your buddy was supposedly there. I think.”

The two scientists were quiet for a while, as if something they knew deep down all along finally had the chance to rise up and slap the shit out of their conscious mind. “Oh shit, Xavier, if that all lines up that’s really fucking damning,” Jin breathed, and Xavier nodded, quiet.

“We should, call someone, maybe,” Xavier offered, and Ghetto shook his head.

“I’m getting my boyfriend back, I’m not waiting for the cops. Where does Ross live,” Ghetto said, and Jin jumped at his tone.

“You could get hurt,” Jin pressed, and Ghetto waved him off. “Sir—”

“Ghetto.”

“Ghetto, please think this through before you go barging in there,” Xavier pleaded. Ghetto glanced away.

——

Ghetto thought it through, and he was absolutely going to be barging in there. He’d decided right after Xavier had given him the address, blatantly ignoring all fears of death he may have had. He was going to get his boyfriend home, and in record fucking time.

They weren’t wrong about Ross’ house— it was 30 minutes away from any kind of civilization, a big estate tucked in a serene forest. Ghetto just found the quiet unsettling, considering the circumstances. He parked some ways away and walked up the dirt road, facing a gate. He sighed and began to climb. Had he ever climbed a gate before? Talk to his lawyer!

He landed ungracefully and suddenly a bright white light was shining on him, nearly blinding him. He moved his hand in front of the light and stumbled behind a bush, trying to regain his composure. He heard the sound of a door opening, and he held his breath, peering around the corner of the bush. Ross was at his porch, hands in the pockets of his lab coat, which was stained with something.

Stained with blood. Ghetto covered his mouth, and Ross merely grumbled and went back inside. Ghetto made a mad dash while the motion sensitive light was still on, diving towards the house and flattening himself against the side wall. He could hear Ross’ footsteps inside, and he waited for them to pass before taking a peek inside the window. Ross was walking towards a set of stairs going down. “Creepy basement, huh?” Ghetto whispered to himself, waiting until Ross was out of sight, and then a few more seconds for good measure. Then, he tried the window. It was unlocked, and Ghetto carefully crawled inside, trying to be as silent as he could. This proved difficult at 6’5, and Ghetto winced when the floor creaked under his feet.

Now what, Ghetto mouthed, looking around. He needed a—

A loud buzzing noise echoed through the household.

Distraction. Ghetto heard the basement door open, and he dove behind the kitchen counter, listening again for Ross’ footsteps before he snuck a look. Ross was headed towards the door, dressed in a clean shirt. He paused, and looked towards the window. Ghetto held his breath and cussed himself out in his head so loud his ears rang. The window was open!

Ross took one step towards the window, and then the buzzing noise came back. Ross let out a loud sigh, turning back towards the door and pressing his finger on a buzzer. “I’m on my way,” he spat, opening the door and walking outside. Ghetto stood up and ran to the stairs, rushing down and pushing the basement door open. The light was white and harsh, and Ghetto squinted.

Then, he stumbled back.

At first glance, Ghetto thought the room was filled with caged people. But upon closer inspection, they weren’t so much people anymore. Ghetto covered his mouth and nose to block out the smell of decay as he approached a cage with a blond kid inside, decomposing, with sunken eyes and bloody patches all over. Ghetto flinched as the kid lunged forward, growling almost animalistically and biting at the bars with yellow teeth.

“Fucking zombies,” Ghetto said, and he whipped around, noticing a slumped figure tied to a chair, with brown hair and a bright red scarf you couldn’t miss. “Nick.” Ghetto sprinted over and kneeled by the chair, cupping Nick’s face. “Nick, it’s me, I’m here.”

Nick was unconscious, his nice outfit dirty and torn, bags under his eyes. Ghetto gently shook his shoulders, but Nick didn’t wake. Ghetto put two fingers under Nick’s jaw, and sighed. “There’s a pulse, babe, faint, but there’s a pulse. Okay, shit, what did he do.”

Ghetto looked to the side and saw a tray with two syringes, one full and one empty. Ghetto took the empty one and looked for a label, but there wasn’t one. The full one was the same, and it was uncapped. Nick’s upper arm was tied with rubber, and the inside of his elbow damp from what Ghetto assumed was alcohol. “What did he inject you with,” Ghetto asked, but Nick was still unresponsive. Ghetto turned towards the wall, and for the first time noticed a screen.

It displayed several locations inside and outside Ross’ house, and Ghetto saw Ross and someone else making their way inside. “Xavier,” Ghetto said, shaking his head. “The buzz must’ve been the gate.”

Ghetto turned back to Nick, refocusing. He untied the restraints on Nick’s wrists and carefully lifted him up, holding him close. “We are getting out of here,” Ghetto declared, turning back towards the screen. For a moment, he paused, watching as Ross poured Xavier a glass of wine in the kitchen.

“Cameras.” Ghetto stepped back, and looked around. “Ross has—”

Ross made a beeline for the basement, and Ghetto gasped. “He knew I was there, he knew— oh fuck,” he stammered, looking around. There was nowhere to hide. Ghetto put his hand on Nick’s head and backed away from the basement door.

It swung open. “Do you think I’m stupid?” Ross asked, walking right in. Xavier followed suit, wincing at Ghetto before getting distracted by the room’s contents. “Do you think someone who went through all this trouble wouldn’t have cameras?”

“I mean, I found you in like, a day,” Ghetto said, shrugging. Ross glared.

“You got lucky, kid. I made some miscalculations with this one, didn’t I. I didn’t know about you. Boyfriend, I’m guessing,” Ross said.

“What the fuck, holy shit,” Xavier breathed, and Ross took a gun out of his pocket and pointed it at him.

“Xavier, you will get your turn,” Ross hissed, and Xavier covered his mouth with wide eyes. Ross took a deep breath and looked back to Ghetto, flashing a smirk. “This was an interesting turn of events, was it not?”

Ghetto looked around, scoffing. “Interesting, motherfucker? You kidnapped my boyfriend.”

“Sure did. And you drove all the way here for a seemingly unloved boy with a fair amount of trauma, enough so to break into my house without a weapon to get him back? Young sir, if I knew any better I’d say you love this one,” Ross said. Ghetto let out a breath and held Nick closer.

“I do,” Ghetto said, puffing out his chest.

Ross stared, then rolled his eyes. “All this nonsense is making me sick, time to end this.” He pointed the gun at Ghetto. “Put him down, I was in the middle of something.”

“Fucking no!” Ghetto said. “I just got him back! You’re not putting your old man hands on him again, not on my watch.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to right now. Do you see what I can turn you into,” Ross said, and Ghetto shrugged.

“Yeah, but that guy won’t let you.”

A gun clicked behind Ross. “Drop the weapon, Doctor,” a man dressed in black ordered, and Ross stared, dumbfounded, as Ghetto smirked.

“Did you know that people actually listen to you when you have two CDC scientists saying that the guy you’re looking for has notes outlining the destruction of the human race via a manmade virus, along with evidence that he went to a bunch of places where people went missing and cataloged the names of each person he took, the numbers of which stretch to over a hundred over a few years?” Ghetto explained, and Ross stuttered, eyes wide.

“How—”

“Before Ghetto left, we all dug through a locked drawer on your desk and found a false bottom,” Xavier added, flashing a smile and pointing to the security cameras. Ross dropped his gun at the sight of several unmarked cars at his gate, along with many more armed people.

“I didn’t know the CDC had a task force for shit like this, but hey, that’s the way the cookie crumbles when you’re a bioterrorist, or whatever the fuck you’re called,” Ghetto said, grinning wide. “Eat shit.”

Ross was handcuffed, face blank with shock. Xavier waved as Ross was taken back upstairs. “Xavier, where’s Jin?” Ghetto asked, and Xavier turned back to him.

“Back at the CDC, waiting for us to come back. You’ll have to drop Nick by there first. But don’t worry, you won’t be apart from him,” Xavier reassured. Ghetto tilted his head.

“No quarantine?” he asked, and Xavier chuckled.

“Oh dear, you misunderstand. We’re all getting quarantined!” Xavier clapped his hands lightly. “Yaayyy...”

Ghetto blinked. “What.”

——

Ghetto picked at the edges of his new bandaid, sitting on the corner of a bed where Nick was still unconscious. Xavier was asleep in a chair, and another man, still in his black uniform, was playing solitaire in the corner of the quarantined room.

Ghetto moved his hand to Nick’s leg, squeezing it and sighing. “Wake up. Please,” he begged, worried.

The door opened, and Jin walked in, sans hazmat suit. “Hey, guys, you’re all good, none of Ross’ virus in any of you, you can go home,” he said, eyeing the sleeping Xavier. “Oh.”

Ghetto got off the bed. “We’re all good? What about Nick?” he asked, and Jin jumped.

“Oh, right, Nick, uh, well he’s fine, just sedated. Heavily. The doctors want to keep him here to keep an eye on him but,” Jin lowered his voice, “I’m pretty sure he’ll be fine, so if you want to take him home or to wherever you’re staying, you can, they can’t force you to stay here any longer.”

Ghetto smiled. “Thanks, man. He’ll be alright?”

“Just fine, once it all wears off. I can text you what to do when he wakes up, Xavier would but look at the guy, he’s gone,” Jin offered, and Ghetto gave Jin a hug. “Woah, okay, thank you.”

“I’ll see you around?” Ghetto asked, breaking the hug. Jin shrugged. “Ah, I’ll get out of your hair, Doctor, and take my beloved to a nicer place than the crappy motel I was staying at.”

“Yeah, alright.” Jin walked towards the door, and looked back. “You’re a hero, Ghetto, you know that?”

Ghetto shook his head. “I just wanted Nick to be safe, I didn’t mean to do all this shit. Pretty fucking cool, though, I guess,” he said. Jin smirked and left.

Ghetto looked back at Nick and leaned over, kissing him on the forehead. “Let’s get you to a cozier bed.”

——

“A plague similar to the likes of the Black Death was narrowly avoided early this morning when former CDC Doctor Ross Botts was caught with the help of Doctor Jin Huang, Professor Xavier White, and a vigilante who wished to remain anonymous. These three discovered a slew of incriminating documents in Botts’ office...”

Nick stirred awake, squinting at the light of the TV, and reaching over to the remote. He turned the TV off and laid back down, his head pounding. He shut his eyes again, settling back into sleep.

His eyes shot open again, and he sat up, whipping his head around. “What the fuck,” he whispered, scanning the hotel room. “What the fuck, what the fuck?” He looked down, and he was wearing a different, warmer outfit than he had been.

He turned to the man in bed next to him, propped up, but snoring. Nick’s shoulders slumped. “Ghetto?” He nudged Ghetto’s shoulder. “Ghetto. Ghetto Ghetto what the fuck are you doing here—”

“Ungh, Nick I wassssleeping,” Ghetto grumbled, slumping towards Nick. His eyes opened, and he froze. “Nick? NICK!” He took Nick’s head in his hands. “You’re awake!”

“Ghetto!” Nick exclaimed, rubbing his thumbs against Ghetto’s stubble. “What happened, where are we, I— I just remember, the Doctor, oh god, where—”

“He’s in jail, Nick, I got you!” Ghetto said, and Nick shook his head.

“I don’t understand.”

“I came all the way here, we’re still in Atlanta, and I found you before that Doctor could do anything real bad to you, we’re in a hotel room and Ross is behind bars. We’re safe,” Ghetto explained, and Nick took another look around. “You’re okay, babe.” His voice cracked.

“Are you crying? Don’t cry, I’ll cry!” Nick wiped Ghetto’s cheeks and sniffled. Ghetto laughed and hugged Nick, holding him tight.

“I missed you!” Ghetto said, and Nick hid his face in Ghetto’s chest.

“I missed you too, Ghetto I— he injected me with something,” Nick pulled away, and Ghetto brushed his fingers through Nick’s hair.

“Sedatives, nothing more. You’re safe, the world is safe, so far, at least,” Ghetto sighed, “but I’m mostly glad that you are. You’re safe.”

“You came all this way for me?” Nick asked, pretty green eyes glassy and wide. “You did all that for me? How did you even— I— I can’t believe you!” Nick lightly smacked Ghetto’s shoulder. “You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“You’re unbelievable, Nick, you get fucking kidnapped and you still only worry about me! How are you feeling?” Ghetto kissed Nick on the cheek.

“Tired, headachey, very confused. I missed you,” Nick said, leaning on Ghetto. Ghetto rubbed his back and hummed.

“I missed you too. God, I was so afraid for you, are you gonna be okay?” he asked, and Nick nodded.

“Now that you’re here, I think so,” Nick said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Ghetto laid down, and Nick snuggled up next to him, gripping his shirt. Ghetto threw an arm around him and watched over him.

_“You know, not to scare you, but I was gonna tell you something on that date.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“It’s cheesy as fuck, but I think I have it down now.”_

_“Cheesy is good.”_

Nick smiled and waved when Xavier walked into the hotel room. Xavier walked over and ruffled Nick’s hair, while Jin leaned on the doorframe and laughed.

_“You’re so amazing, and I don’t know if you realize that sometimes. You don’t know what you can do to people. The good things, y’know? You changed me a lot.”_

Ghetto glanced over at Nick and let out a breath when he saw him asleep in the passenger’s seat. They were almost home.

_“I’ve liked other guys. But no relationship has ever gone on this strong. I’ve never, y’know, done anything like this for anyone at four months. Maybe a gift card, no rescue missions, that’s for sure. You were always different.”_

Nick liked Seaport, liked how quiet it was, how far it was. Still had a small town feel, except maybe a little colder and very far away from Ross’ maximum security prison. It was a little pricey, but nothing Ghetto’s bank account couldn’t handle, especially if he took a gap year. He didn’t mind.

_“Nick Lynx, you brought out the fuckin’ love in me. The cliche shit, the ‘I would go to the ends of the Earth for you’ shit. The real shit.”_

Ghetto raised his glass. “I love you, Nick.”

Nick’s face flushed red. “I love you too,” he said, and he looked back at their new house. He cheersed with Ghetto. “I think we’re gonna make it.”

Ghetto chuckled and took a sip.

“Me too.”


End file.
